


Stefan

by lilzwinchester



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-11-26 18:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilzwinchester/pseuds/lilzwinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would you do if vengeful ghosts came after you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Stefan- chapter 1  
He looked around him. It was still snowing and the children were happily playing, throwing snowballs, building snowmen, laughing. It was such a comforting and peaceful atmosphere with all these innocent kids having fun, watched by attentive and loving parents. There were also lovers, holding hands and walking around, in their own little world, oblivious to the cold, to other people. How lucky they were!  
He was lost. He had never been here before, he was late, yet he didn't care. This was one of the nicest places he had ever been to; he had never seen a place with so many happy people. He liked watching people laugh, smile; he loved to watch how sad people suddenly smiled at something, and watch that smile illuminate the whole room. That was the secret of a smile. To make you happy, and the people around you happy. When was the last time he smiled? He couldn't remember. He looked up towards the sky and the grey clouds reflected in his bright, strange green eyes. It was fascinating to watch snowflakes slowly fall, floating then twirling down, till they fell gently fell on the ground. He had to go. He couldn't afford to stay longer. But he couldn't; he had never felt so exhilarated, so happy to be walking, feeling the snow. He felt the snowflakes falling on his hair, on his face, on his eyelashes. He passed his hand in his ivory black hair, and then wiped his face with his sleeve. He walked on, feeling his feet sink in the snow, leaving footprints behind him. He felt uneasy for some reason. Maybe it was because he had been taught to always cover his tracks, not matter what; no matter if you ate breakfast or killed someone, you HAD to cover your tracks. He looked at those happy kids again. How he wished he could have that. Have caring parents, loving siblings, a normal childhood. He saw an old man, who looked nice and sympathetic. He went up to him and asked:  
"- Excuse me sir, do you know in which direction is Chainfield manor?  
\- Are you crazy, boy?  
\- I don't understand...I...  
\- You're new here aren't you?!  
\- Yes.  
\- Everyone knows that those who went to Chainfield manor never came back to tell the tale.  
-w..Why?  
\- Because it's haunted, and not just haunted by ghosts, but by many other demonic creatures.  
\- That sounds like a legend of the eighteen hundreds!  
\- Well, the cops went investigating there, and believe it or not, they never came back, and we never found the bodies of those brave agents.  
\- But I don't understand, I live there, and there have never been any problems...  
\- You....live there?! Quit fooling, kid.  
-I’m not kidding, I live there with my father and Mrs Gritt." The old man looked at him like he was sick, tried saying something but all he could do was stutter, then left the fastest possible.  
"-Hey! You forgot to tell me in which direction it is! He cried, running after him.  
-its...it’s that way." But, he grabbed him by the collar, "I'll give you an advice: leave." He let go, then left, leaving him choking and gasping for air. He started walking in the direction the man had indicated, and after two hours of climbing hills and trudging through the forest, he finally arrived at Chainfield manor. It was a manor made with stone, darkened by age and perhaps pollution, giving it a sinister atmosphere. It looked like a small version of a medieval castle, with his towers that reminded you of dungeons. It used to have a wonderful park, with colourful flowers and exotic plants, and the villagers praised it, but it had been neglected and all the beautiful plants had been overtaken by weed and thorn. He looked around him, trying to remember every detail of this sinister and unwelcoming place. It was as if those kids playing happily had made him realise how sad and dead his life had been, how he had never felt real happiness, how everywhere he went seemed lifeless... He tapped on the door. How he hated this place since that old man had told him that people died and disappeared here. Why did he believe him? He was a stranger, maybe even a lunatic, raving on about some lost world or something. But he did believe him, because wherever he went with his dad, hate and blood followed.  
The door opened on Mrs Gritt. She sneered, and grabbed him by the shoulder.  
"-Where were you?! She hissed, with her witch-like voice. She had always reminded him of a witch, and sometimes, a snake, with the way she hissed and sneered.  
-I...I was lost....  
-Lossssst?! We'll see what your father thinks of this." She pulled him upstairs, knocked on a huge oak door. After the "come in", she opened it, and flung him inside. He flinched. Even though his father was turning his back to him, he could swear he could see straight through him.  
"-So, Stefan, there you are....  
\- I'm sorry father I...  
-Shut up. You will not interrupt me, and will speak only if you are asked to.  
\- Yes father.  
\- You have been out of this house for almost six hours. I will not tolerate this. You will stay in your room for two days at least.  
\- I....yes father.  
\- Now go."  
Stefan opened the door and left. He was raging inside. How could his father be so heartless? How could he be so cold towards him when normal kids' parents were so caring and loving. It was not like his father needed him. He had just been on a walk and got lost. Was that so hard to understand? He went to his room, slammed the door shut and hit the wall with his fists. He grunted in agony, having expected to punch his normal plaster wall; instead, he had punched a cold stone one. He had forgotten this wasn't his old home. It was Chainfield Manor. It didn't really make any difference, he hated both.  
\------------------


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stefan gets to meet his first nightmare.

Stefan looked out side the window, staring at the white duvet which had covered the dirty, sad park. How easily the snow could cover ugliness and change it into beauty; he wished he could change his ugly life into something beautiful. He looked into the distance, trying to look for the little village he had seen yesterday. He saw it, over there in the distance, on top of that little hill. He could see the smoke coming out of the miniature brick chimneys, raising into the sky then disappearing. He wished he lived in that peaceful village, with all these nice people, happy kids; he was seriously wondering if he couldn't climb down that stone wall and leave. But he couldn't. Suddenly, he heard a ghostly scream. He jumped out of his skin, looking around him; he found nothing, obviously. Had he been dreaming?That scream had seemed so close, so real but yet impossible. It had been an inhuman cry, but on the same no animal would ever howl like that. He stared anxiously around, waiting for another scream. There it was; it sent chills up and down his spine, and he knew he couldn't take it any longer, and decided he would go to ask his father about this. He opened the door, and stepped into the cold corridor. He walked till that oak door that indicated his father's room and knocked. He got not answer; he knocked again, he still didn't get any answer. He started wandering about the manor, first looking for his father, then wandering for mere curiosity. He had only been in the west wing before, so he rapidly got lost in those corridors; they looked so alike! Slowly, the already sinister walls became even more gloomy as he advanced in this unknown part of the manor; it was so old and dirty there was a kind of slime on the wall, there was barely any lights and absolutely no furniture. The lights started flickering, Stefan trembled, feeling a kind of chilling gust of wind. He looked around, searching for a possible open window where this cold air was coming from. He could see none. He continued walking, feeling slightly anxious. Suddenly, he heard that horrible scream, right behind him. It was so powerful, so terrible, desperate. Stefan was unable to move, terrorised. He felt something icy touch his shoulder. He turned around, to see a man, whose face was decomposing; one of his eyes was dangling out of its socket, his nose was gone, his lips were rotting, and the hand he was stretching out towards Stefan had still a bit of flesh clinging to the darkened bones. Stefan yelled of fright, before running off, running faster than he had ever done in his entire life. He ran and ran, till he was gasping for air, till his heart was thumping so fast he thought it would just stop, till his legs were about to give way. He was running for his life. Suddenly, he bashed into something. He screamed again, and felt like he was going to faint.  
"- What's wrong, Stefan?! Stefan?!  
-F....Father? Oh Father, thank god!  
\- Answer me Stefan!  
\- We have to go, it's dangerous!  
\- What happened?  
\- There was this, this....scream, it was horrible! I came to..to find you, to ask you wh... what it was, but you...you weren't in your study, so I went to find you, but I got lost, and then...and then there was this, this....monster!!! A rotting man who tried to catch me!!! It yelled, and touched me, oh it was....it was...  
\- You must have hallucinated Stefan, there is no "rotting man" here, nor were there any screams. I'm positive about this.  
\- But Father I...  
\- There. Are. No. Such. Thing. Now I'll take you back to your room." Stefan knew there was no point arguing, but he was sure he didn't just "hallucinate". How could he have "hallucinated" that icy touch of that...monster, and how could he have "hallucinated"such a terror? Going back through those corridors was just horrible, it was like reliving the terrible moments, with his father. Again, the scream sounded, but in the distance; the sound echoed in the corridors. Stefan grabbed his father's arm.  
"There! Can't you hear it?! That scream! There it is again!" His father only whacked his hand off his arm and said, with an icy tone:  
"- No, I cannot hear what you seem to hear, now will you just calm down and act like a mature person instead of a kid?!  
\- Don't tell me you didn't hear that?! It was so loud! There, there it is again!  
\- No, I do not hear it, now calm down and shut up." Stefan was taken aback by his father' attitude. Normally, when his father was angry, he would flame up in a few moments, not talk icily like that. When he got back to his room, he collapsed on his bed, confused by everything. Why did he hear things other people didn't hear? And see things that people only see in nightmares?


	3. Chapter 3

Stefan went back to his room, holding a bag of candles. He couldn't stand the darkness, with its secrets; never knowing what was that shadow, that creaking noise. It might have been considered childish, but it wasn't. He lighted every candle, and placed them around his bed. It felt so much safer. He sighed, and went to bed. For the first time since he saw that monster, he felt reassured; soon after, he was asleep.  
It was the middle of the night; he woke up. He looked around him, feeling as if someone was in his room. He felt a presence; at least the small lamp and the candles were reassuring. The second he thought of that, the dim light of the lamp started flickering, before switching off; a gust of cold wind blew the candles out. But the window was closed. He told himself that in those kinds of old manors, there was wind coming of everywhere, not only windows, that it was normal. The lamp was probably really old, and needed changing. But it didn't reassure him. He felt that 'presence' more than ever, and again, felt those chills in his spine like that time he saw that monster. He was terrorised; he felt something was there, but he didn't know what. Suddenly, he saw it. Right in front of him, was what we would call a ghost. But our idea of a ghost is nowhere near reality. It was something so dreadful, so desperately maddening, it drained all the possible heat around you, all your strength, all the hope, all your feelings but terror. And not just a terror like the one we have of appearing to a meeting naked, but pure terror, a feeling so intense your soul won't even be able to take it. Stefan felt all the heat leave the room, all his feelings drained out, except that maddening terror. That ghost was approaching him, and he could feel, its vengeful purpose, its anger. He trembled uncontrollably, shook so hard his legs barely supported him. The thing was barely a metre away. He yelled, putting all the strength he had left in there, a yell of terror, of despair. His legs gave way, and he sunk to the ground. The ghost came closer and closer, its hands stretching towards him; Stefan looked for a possible escape, but of course, they were none. Suddenly, the door slammed open, and his father came in, and that ghost vanished.  
"- What is wrong with you Stefan?! Why are you yelling like a mad cow?!  
\- I..there was a ghost, it was coming for me.  
\- Seriously, Stefan, stop it with you ghosts and whatever else you have in your head. Shut up, and go back to sleep." Without even giving his son the time to answer, he left the room, leaving Stefan utterly alone, once again. He collapsed onto his bed, exhausted, and hating what was happening... Why him? What did he do to have supernatural creatures running after him? 

 

He woke up, after only 2 hours of sleep, and went to the bathroom, to wash his face. He jumped at his appearance; he was paler than usual, the colours had been drained from his face, he had dark circles around his eyes, and his hair was completely dishevelled. He wet his face, and tried combing his hair so it would look better. But it didn't. He thought to himself that he looked like someone dead; maybe one day he'll transform himself into the thing that terrorised him yesterday night. He shivered. Suddenly, he felt pain on his right hand; it was so painful he gasped, and, as suddenly as it had appeared, it vanished, leaving him confused. He looked down to his hand, and realised that where the pain had been felt a few seconds earlier, there was a black spot; a black spot that looked like rot.


	4. Chapter 4

He looked at the black spot on his hand, that looked like rot. What was it? 

He heard Mrs Gritt coming in, and say with her hissing voice that he was supposed to eat lunch with his father. How abominable, he thought; he hated being with his father, and he was sure his father hated being with him. He nonetheless got dressed and went to the dining room. His father was sitting on the far side of the table, and Stefan went to join him; he sat down and concentrated on the dish he was served.   
"- Well, Stefan, feeling better?  
\- Yes, Father.  
\- I am glad. Now, I have realised that you were acting strangely these last few days, and decided that maybe it would be time for you to go back to school, like you used to. You only missed a few months, you should be able to catch up without any problems. Your new school is called Mayridge School, you will start in a week, at the beginning of the second semester.  
\- Thank you." The conversation ended, and it was awkward for the rest of the lunch. When they finally finished, Stefan ran up to his room, and jumped onto his bed. He buried his head in his pillow, like when he was younger and stayed there for at least ten minutes without moving, thinking of what was happening. He sighed, and felt like crying, even though he knew he wasn't going to... Boys don't cry! He was going to school; he used to like it, but since he had been moving around so much, he had started hating it; the looks the people gave him, "the new boy", and how they judged him, and decided he was a 'creep' was just horrible. He didn't want to go through all of this anymore.   
He got up, and decided he was done with all this. He wanted to go out, walk in the snow, feel the cold, the icy fresh air. So he waited a little, till he knew Mrs Gritt was taking a nap, and he sneaked out of the house. He breathed, taking in the most fresh air he could, feeling his lungs open up till bursting. It felt good to be outside; he walked in the snow, feeling it crunch under his shoes. He started wandering about, enjoying the freedom, going where his feet felt like going.   
He found himself in front of a forest; he looked around, and saw that he could either continue walking around in the open, either go into the forest. He started walking into the forest. As a kid, he always like them, those trees shooting up towards the sky, the animals walking around silently; they were always around, even if you thought they weren't. People normally took forests for being part of the landscape, another hiking adventure. Stefan believed trees were special beings, that sensed things, without ears or eyes; he was always careful about what he did when he was around trees, as if he was scared of them reading minds; people cutting trees down would send him into raging fits. Cutting a human up with an axe was a crime, so why was cutting trees taken for granted?   
He walked around, looking at those trees, the dead leaves covered by the snow, taking in all the images, the odour of the forest, its atmosphere.   
He had been wandering about for almost an hour, and he realised he was lost. Normally, his sense would always be active, his mind, alert. But today, it was as if every part of his body had given up the will to always be attentive to small stupid details. He looked around, analysing every single detail, like the peeled bark of a tree, a mark in the snow, anything. Then, he realised all he had to do to find his way back was to follow his footprints in the snow. He thought that he had been stupid to panic like that, for that split second. He decided he wanted to continue walking a bit more, because who knew when he would get that opportunity again. Slowly, he realised the landscape was changing. The white snow that had covered everything up was melting in some parts, mixing up with dead leaves and soil to form a thick mud. The trees, who had their branches happily stretched towards the sky, had now twisted branches who seemed like witch's hands trying to grab him. The whole atmosphere was just sinister, and he thought of turning back and walking back home, when suddenly a breathtaking pain shot through his whole body, making him bend down, moaning. He felt like his whole body was ripped apart, that he was being forced down by an irresistible force; he tried locating the 'origin' of the pain, and then, realised it was his hand. He looked at it, looking for what was the cause of this torture. He realised that the stain that looked like rot, had expanded and had covered half his hand. He screamed of fright. The pain eased, and Stefan took a deep breath; but the searing pain came back again, and he fell to the ground in agony. He lost track of where he was, stumbling and tripping. After a few minutes, he fell again, and this time, he gave up trying to get up. The pain eased again, and Stefan relaxed, and tried recognising where he was. It was no use; he got up, and realised most of the snow had melted in this part of the forest, so he couldn't just turn around and follow his footprints to find his way back home. He swore, and started walking in the direction he thought he had come from. The snow was gradually back again, and Stefan desperately looked for his footprints. There! He saw them. He ran to them, as if scared they would disappear; he stopped. Those footprints were accompanied with red stains on the snow, a crimson red on pure white. Blood.


End file.
